


Like Falling Stars, We Fade Away

by WickedWiles



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Aether Feeding/Vampirism?, F/M, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Hurt/Comfort, If You Squint - Freeform, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Oral Sex, Pheromones, Porn with Feelings, Post-Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers, Shameless Smut, Vaginal Sex, semi-rough sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:40:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28097067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WickedWiles/pseuds/WickedWiles
Summary: Cerigg needs more love. Also I had heats on the brain.That's it, that's the whole motivation.And then maybe it turned into two idiots catching feelings.Featuring yet another AU version of my WoL, this time as a Black Mage!
Relationships: Cerigg/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	Like Falling Stars, We Fade Away

Cerigg sighed heavily as he lowered his tankard to find Taynor's anxious visage at his side once more.

“Asleep, or not at home?”

The boy shook his head. “Neither. She was there, and awake, but...” His brow furrowed even deeper, something one wouldn't think possible from one so young. “I think something's wrong. She would not open the door, for Glynard or myself...she just said she was fine, and that we should leave. The Manager said she's been turning people away for days.”

“Could be she just doesn't want to be disturbed.”

“No.” Another shake of his head, more forceful this time. “This is _Vieryne_. She'd always talk to me...you didn't hear her voice, or feel the aether around her room. Something is _wrong._ ”

The bounty hunter gave another long-suffering sigh, then drained the remaining spirits in one swift gulp before standing. “Fine. If it'll stop you worrying yourself sick, I'll go see her myself. You were going to go bury yourself in a tome with Moren about all this, aye? Be about it, then...I'll fetch you when this is sorted out.”

Cerigg watched Taynor's hurried retreat from the Wandering Stairs before he turned his gaze towards the Pendants. He'd never have let the boy see how his his mouth turned down into an uneasy scowl as he recalled the darkened skies over Ahm Araeng, fiery trails blazing down through the clouds. Whatever all this was, he'd be damned if he was going to sit idly by.

Finding her room was simple enough; the Manager of Suites only gave him a wary nod and pointed in the right direction, after taking in his expression as he stalked past the front desk. Cerigg didn't have the boy's mage training, but there was a tension that enveloped him as he pounded on the heavy wooden door, as if the very air were waiting for something to give.

It was a long moment before he heard the slightest whispers of shuffling movement from inside, and he felt the hair on the back of his neck start to rise.

“Taynor, please. I told you, I'm fine.”

The tremors, the soft breathlessness, and the minute cracks in her voice all belied the words, and his heart was in his throat in an instant, his irritation scattered. Seven hells, the boy's constant worrying must've been getting to him.

“I'll believe that when I see it for myself, friend.”

Another silence stretched itself out for far too long.

“...Cerigg?”

The way she said his name gave him pause; a tone that spoke of fear and hope in equal measure, with an undercurrent of something that yearned. That _hungered._

“You...you can't be here right now. Please, leave me be.”

“To the hells with that.” His anger rushed back, and he glared at the door as if he could open it through sheer force of will. “You think you can just lie to the boy like that – to _me –_ and we're just gonna walk away and let it slide? Something's going on, and I -”

The door swung open abruptly, and he no longer had the words to continue.

The scent hit him first, a musky tang coupled with sweat and something else he couldn't quite place. It should've been off-putting, but instead he felt a warmth creeping under his skin, and certain parts of him decided that this was, in fact, quite intriguing.

Taking in the sight of her, he couldn't bring himself to argue the point. Her long, pale hair was unusually disheveled, sticking to the sides of her face, bangs falling slightly over fiery eyes that were unnaturally bright, pupils blown wide with a wild light dancing behind them. A thin sheen of sweat reflected the lamplight off of storm-grey skin and midnight scales as she leaned against the doorframe, chest heaving as though she'd just run clear across Lakeland. Her loose white shirt was only buttoned once roughly halfway down, leaving very little to his imagination, and...well, beyond that, there were just her smalls, a modest crimson affair with a delicate fringe of lace around the edges. He tried to notice details like that, rather than the dark dampness of the fabric, soaked with sweat or -

“You _really_ have to _go_ ,” she growled through clenched teeth.

“You look like hell,” he stated flatly. “I'll get one of your companions, or the Exarch...”

She shook her head vehemently. “Can't help me.” The words were hoarse, choked out between deep breaths, her knuckles going pale as she gripped the wood.

Cerigg hesitated, eyes sweeping over her once more. His skin grew warmer still, and he'd liked to have thought it was from embarrassment at seeing her like this, but he was no blushing youth, flustering at his own desires. And he'd thought about it, hadn't he? Watching her draw upon her immense reserves of raw power, the way she froze and burned along with the aether that rippled through her hands, wondered what those same hands might feel like upon his skin, flame-kissed and frigid...

“Then perhaps I could.” The words were out of his mouth before he realized he'd even thought them, much less spoken them aloud. She went stock-still, barely seeming to even draw breath, staring at him.

“And just what is it that you think I...need?” Her tongue darted out to wet her lips as she almost sighed the last word, and he bit back a groan.

“A...friend.” He tried to choose his words carefully, but it was hard with his mind conjuring all sorts of images of exactly what kind of 'friend' she might need. “Someone to...ride it out with.”

Vieryne growled again, and he found himself shoved against the metal railing before he could react, her hands fisting around the lapels of his armor as she pressed him back.

“You _do not_ want this.”

“That's for me to decide, isn't it.” He smiled faintly as she groaned and rested her forehead against his chest, forcing himself to relax into his usual self-assurance. “I owe you, remember?”

Her answering snarl was quiet, muffled. He felt her grip tighten briefly, then she yanked hard, pulling him down to crush her lips to his.

It was rough and desperate, with none of her usual poise; he couldn't say if the deep thrill that ran through him was in spite of that or because of it. The tentative interest he'd been harboring was brought into sharp relief by the taste of her, heightened and honed into a focused, fervent need.

She pushed herself away abruptly, leaving him breathless and...something else. His head spun for an instant, and he had to grab the railing to steady himself. It was subtle, and to less experienced hunters it might've gone unnoticed. But he'd had enough close calls, heard enough tales, and felt the signs at the edge of his awareness.

 _She'd **drained**_ _some of his aether._

Just a touch- not enough to do any lasting damage beyond that brief flash of dizziness. The shock of the realization must've registered on his face, for she averted her eyes, backing slowly through the doorway.

“...it will only get worse, if...I will not be able to _stop_ , Cerigg...you must _go._ ”

Some distant and rational part of his mind considered heeding the warning as she started to close the door, but he was already moving, slamming his arm against the wood, holding it open.

“I'll not leave a comrade to suffer. Not when I am able and willing...” He leaned in, free hand gently brushing the damp hair away from her face. “You have no idea how hard it was to aim with you swaying through those spells of yours...how much I wanted to take you against the nearest boulder when the fight was over...” A wry smile curled his lips for a moment. “Were it not for the boy being present.” Letting his hand trail down the side of her face, he traced her jawline with his fingertips before drawing them away, noting the way her eyes darted to follow the movement, her lips parting slightly. “If you want me, friend...you've got me.”

She kept her eyes focused on his hand, her chest rising in a painfully distracting manner with each of her labored breaths. “It will be more than just a passing lightheadedness.”

“Aye.”

“It could...take a while.”

Wicked white, the smell of her was _intoxicating_ , and it was so hard to keep himself still against the urges that clamored louder and louder for indulgence, for _release_.

“Whatever you need.”

A small eternity passed, and then he felt the resistance against his arm fade as she released her hold on the door, allowing him to step inside.

No sooner had the door clicked shut behind them, she damn near tackled him, sending them both sprawling to the ground. Holding his wrists in a vice-like grip, Vieryne sat with her knees on his thighs, pinning him.

“Last chance.” She licked her lips as if presented with a particularly delectable meal, leaning over him, eyes burning with that manic light, her breath hot against his ear. “Change. Your. Mind.”

Cerigg craned his head up as much as he could, burying his face between her neck and shoulder, breathing deep of her scent and reveling in the growing fog of desire that clouded out aught else. His tongue traced over scales until he found vulnerable skin at the center of her throat, and he bit down, her sharply inhaled breath sending a mix of pride and arousal straight to his groin.

“ _Never._ ”

Her deep, shuddering sigh was one of relief, and the grip on his wrists went slack, all of her preternatural strength exhausted with the effort of her restraint. He took advantage of the newfound freedom to slide his hands over her waist, under the loose shirt and up, up until the curve of her breasts were cupped in his palms, his thumbs rubbing gently over taut nipples. The soft, wanton moan that slipped from her lips was all it took to sweep away the last of his control, and he let himself surrender to instinct.

Jerking his hands outward, he sent the lone button holding the shirt together flying, then pushed the fabric from her shoulders and flung it aside. Pulling them both to their feet, he pressed her back against the door, tugging her soaked smalls down. He was hot, too hot, feeling sweat already dampening the cloth padding under his leather armor, and he could not rip his gloves away fast enough. Her trembling fingers fumbled at the catches on the front of his jerkin, but he pushed her hands aside to simply tear it open, heedless of the damage.

He had to step back slightly to deal with his boots, but she remained against the door, shaking as if she would not have had the strength to stand without its support; her eyes never left him, watching his every movement with an intense, naked longing that only made him more reckless in his haste to free himself from the confines of leather and chain. And to see her stretch out her arms towards him as he pushed the leather pants and smalls down to free his already throbbing length...he damn near tripped over his own feet as he kicked the offending garments away.

Had he any wit left about him, he would have taken his time to savor her form, to prepare her as a considerate lover would. In his imaginings, he would gently caress her every curve, lavish sweet words and sweeter touches upon her, reveling in every pleasured sound he could draw from her until she reached her limit- and then the tables would turn, and it would be _her_ unleashing her passion upon him, with magic dancing at her fingertips.

But her scent coiled around him, blinding all his senses to aught but the all-consuming need to _take,_ to _fill,_ to _claim,_ and all his daydreams fell to the wayside.

There was nothing gentle or sweet about the way he lifted her from her feet, slamming her back against the wood, holding her there with the press of his body. Her nails bit into his skin as she scrabbled for purchase on his upper arms and shoulders, one leg already lifting to wrap around his waist. He crushed his lips to hers, swallowing her soft, impatient whine.

Their hips ground mindlessly together for a few frustrated moments, and then he was sliding home into her, the shock of the sensation like surfacing for air, only then to realize he'd been drowning. A moment's breath, pulling back just far enough for their eyes to meet – and then there was nothing but the ecstatic drag of pressure and searing warmth as he set a wild, frenetic pace, the door rattling slightly in protest as he drove into her again and again.

She found words where he managed only throaty moans and grunts, running her fingers through his hair, pleas for more, _more_ spilling between half-feral kisses that were as much teeth as they were lips and tongue.

The surge of pleasure was almost painfully sharp; there was no slow climb to a peak, no drawing it out or holding it back, though he could vaguely remember having done so in the past. But for the life of him in that moment, he couldn't fathom why, not when there was such breath-taking rapture in the tightness around him, his every nerve alight with a singular, irresistible goal.

_Release._

His senses reeled as he throbbed and pulsed inside her, the vague feeling of the whole world spinning out of control, of being stretched so thin he could almost break – then floating down into a clouded haze of euphoric bliss.

There was just enough strength left in his arms to lower her to the ground before his shuddering legs gave out, and he sank to his knees in front of her, slumping forward to rest his head against her thigh.

He could feel the weakness in his limbs, but it seemed distant and unimportant, with the lingering intoxication of his climax tingling through not only his body, but his very aether. Her scales rubbed against his face, and he marveled at the warmth of them, how they felt like silk-wrapped glass against his skin. Oh, and the scent of her- that wonderful, heady mix of spices and musk and...and...he couldn't even think of what else it reminded him of, but it was so _close_ , and even stronger than before. He nuzzled forward a bit against her thigh, seeking the source of it, feeling her muscles twitch under his touch. The soft laughter that drifted from above was like falling notes of music on his shoulders.

“Th-that...tickles, Cerigg.”

He hummed his response against her skin, brushing his sideburns lightly against her thigh again, lips curling with satisfaction at the continued rain of her amusement. Each deep breath brought another wash of her over his senses, the slight undercurrent of himself no detriment to the allure.

A scent so remarkable must surely have a taste to match.

Pushing forward, questing, he could feel her tense, hear her breathless gasp as his nose brushed against her mound, the tapered patch of scales leading down from her stomach still glistening with the sweat from their exertions. Her fingers curled into his hair once more, but there was no attempt to pull him away; emboldened, he dipped his head further, tongue darting out to lick a long, unhurried trail between her folds.

Vieryne cried out, her grip tightening as he found the still-swollen bud and swirled around it lazily before seeking to press further into her, the traces of her slick spreading hints of sweetness over his tongue, inflaming his curiosity. But the way she stood prevented him from delving any deeper, and he growled his displeasure. He would _not_ be denied.

It took only a swift dip of his shoulder to slip it behind her thigh and lift, exposing her fully to his ambitions, and her surprised chuckle was soon lost in a chorus of moans and broken exclamations. Her laughter had been pleasant; the sounds she made now were _divine_.

Cerigg curled his tongue to lap at her core, as deep as he could reach, the taste everything he'd wanted and more. She hadn't much leverage, but her hips pressed forward nonetheless, urging him onward, and he feasted as a starving man might, with no thoughts of stopping. Even when she tipped back her head and moaned his name to the ceiling, legs trembling, nails digging into his scalp, he would have continued.

But the haze of his contentment had begun to wane, and he shied away from the cold, harsh perceptions of aching muscles and hard stone. Another deep breath, and the heat rose under his skin once more as his body roused in turn. He could return to that blissful peace; he _would_. All he needed was her – her scent and her warmth and the _release_...

Time blurred, a dizzying cycle of need and contentment, played out over and over on every surface their fumbling bodies found. Floor, tables, balcony; they even made it to the bed at least once. The sight of her above him, eyes half-closed and lips parted, body moving with an ancient, untamed rhythm, the sound of the headboard thudding against the wall as he canted his hips up to meet her again and again – brief impressions seared into his mind before all faded into oblivion.

He woke slowly, reality slipping back by degrees as his eyes cracked open. Pale light filtered in from the open windows, the softness of dawn, but he had to blink blearily against it nonetheless.  
  
His head was pounding, and sore muscles protested as he thought briefly about sitting up. Not unlike other mornings he'd had, with Taynor at the ready to scold him for his behavior at the Stairs, and very little memory of exactly what it was he'd done to deserve it.  
  
The person leaning over him was most decidedly not Taynor, however; for starters, she was a good deal more attractive. The short robe she'd wrapped around herself fell open slightly at the collar as she bent forward, hand hovering over his forehead, and he remembered the feel of her under his hands, the taste of her on his lips.

Not a dream, then.

“Your reserves are recovering quicker than I expected.” Vieryne smiled gently, though she withdrew her hand without letting it rest against his skin. The slight pang of disappointment at the lack of contact came as something of a surprise, but he hadn't the faculties to focus on it at that moment.

“Always been a fast healer,” he mumbled. Any further thoughts he might have added were cut off by an absurdly loud grumble from his stomach, and he was abruptly aware of the gnawing emptiness it harbored.

She hid a chuckle behind her hand. “Naturally, a meal is still the best way to fully restore oneself. I've a tub prepared for after...just say the word and I'll heat the water for you.”

Ignoring the continued objections of his body, he forced himself to sit up, watching as she crossed the room to the long table, everything they'd knocked off of it in their passion neatly righted, and now adorned with various platters of foods that made his mouth water even from here. His lips were dry and chapped as he ran his tongue over them in anticipation of the morsels she piled on a small tray.

“Pleasant company and breakfast? A damned sight better than what I'm used to waking up to...ah hells. _Taynor._ ” He winced, rubbing the back of his head. “Boy's gonna have an earful or two for me for leavin' him at the Cabinet all night.”

She paused, teapot in hand, half tilted to start filling the mug she'd placed on the tray with his plate. Her face was turned away, but he could see how still she'd gone, the sudden tension in her shoulders, the way her tail lashed. Silence hovered just short of becoming uncomfortable before she cleared her throat softly.

“I sent word that you would be...delayed. He stayed with Moren, in his lodgings...that night and the one after...and last night.” She finished her interrupted movement, pouring the tea carefully.

 _Three days?_ He stared at the rumpled bedclothes without seeing them, trying to piece together some sort of timeline in his mind, grasping at the vague memories. He barely noticed when she placed the tray on his lap and retreated with her own cup of tea to a nearby chair. It wasn't until he took a sip and found the liquid surprisingly less bitter than he'd expected that he blinked and truly looked at the food in front of him.

“Huh. Good tea.”

“A special blend...Shtola introduced me to it. Particularly good for facilitating the body's flow of aether.” Vieryne kept her gaze fixed down at her cup, expression impassive, unreadable.

He leaned back against the headboard, taking slow bites as the silence settled again, heavy and tense, until he couldn't bear another moment.

“Mind telling me what the hells is going on?”

Her cup _clinked_ softly against the table, followed by a deep sigh.

“An unfortunate...condition suffered by my people. It is normally quite predictable, and infrequent in its occurrence - we have ways of dealing with it...none of which are available here, I'm afraid.”

“Like the Mystel, then.” He shot a glance out of the corner of his eye; she had turned her head away again, looking at the floor, at her hands. Anywhere but at him.

“In a fashion, I suppose. It has little to do with breeding cycles, from what I'm aware. Even amongst the tribes there is some debate on the matter. Some believe it a means to ensure our strength in times of need. Others simply think it the will of our blood, our...heritage.” She shrugged dispassionately, though her voice wavered. “Our...scent...attracts a suitable partner, and then...”

Cerigg's brow furrowed. “Predictable, you said.”

“Aye...though in times of great fear or stress, there is a chance it will be...less so.”

He followed her gaze to the window, to the clear sky above the Crystarium.

“Taynor and I were after a mark near Twine when we heard what happened here. Just in time to see it for ourselves over Ahm Araeng.” He narrowed his eyes slightly. “Already a couple of days since the first one even then. How long were you...”

“Long enough.”

“And if it'd been longer?”

Finally she met his eyes, though she averted hers again quickly, her lips pressed into a thin line. Cerigg swore softly under his breath.

“Come here.”

She looked up again, startled. “What?”

“I said, come here.” He put the tray aside and stretched out his hand. “I'd come to you, friend, but I'm not sure my legs would take kindly to it at the moment.”

A moment's hesitation, and then she rose, walking slowly the bedside; another pause, and she placed her hand in his still-waiting one, letting him draw her closer to sit on the edge.

“Why?”

She tilted her head silently, the question plain her eyes.

“You know damned well you could have called on anyone in this city – hells, in this whole damned _world_ – and they'd have come to you without a second thought, scent or no.” His pulse raced, something welling up in his chest that made it hard to get the words out, but just as impossible to stop. “You could've let Glynard in. Or any of the others I _know_ came before.” Sitting up further, he gritted his teeth against the ache. “Why did you wait so long, when you might have...” He couldn't bring himself to finish the thought, and settled for brushing his fingertips over her cheek instead. She leaned in to the touch, and his heart was in his throat in an instant.

“Why did you open the door for _me_?” He had naught but a whisper left of his voice.

She covered his hand with her own, turning her face to kiss his palm softly.

“Why did you say yes?” Her murmur was slightly muffled against his skin before she placed his hand back on the bed. “You hadn't been exposed that long. You had the will to walk away...and you didn't, even knowing...” She took a deep breath. “Knowing what I would do to you...that I am no better than a sin eater, the very things you hunt and abhor. And even now that it's over, when you should rightly be fleeing from my bed...” Her lips curled into the smallest of smirks as she glanced down. “You seem determined to draw me back into it instead.”

There were a great many answers to be had, but he found all of them inadequate, and tossed them aside in favor of wrapping his arms around her, drawing her in to a slow, gentle kiss that sent a shiver down his spine. It swiftly grew more urgent on both sides, her tongue slipping between his lips to tease at his, her fingertips combing through his hair and trailing over the planes of his shoulders.

His hands sought to slip under the loose robe, but she swatted them away deftly, breaking the kiss with a smug grin.

“Not until you've bathed.”

He let out a long-suffering sigh, looking over her shoulder at the end of the large tub that was barely visible around the edge of the partition. “If you insist...though I may require motivation to persuade my body to walk all that way.”

Her laughter was no less divine now than he recalled. Slipping out of his grasp, she sauntered across the room, letting the robe slide down her form slowly, leaving her completely bare – and Cerigg breathless. She glanced back over her shoulder as aether danced over her fingertips, flickering with red and gold, and faint wisps of steam quickly began to rise from the water's surface. A single finger crooked at him with an unmistakable command, one that he was only too glad to follow.

And this time, he was going to savor – and _remember_ – every blessed second of it.

**Author's Note:**

> I keep finishing these things when I have no time to look over them thoroughly, and have to yeet them before I change my mind...so hopefully no glaring mistakes? xD
> 
> I love the role quest NPCs, they deserve more attention! <3
> 
> Inspired by a prompt, 'A kiss as a warning', found on [Emet-Selch's Wholesomely Debauched and Enabling Book Club](https://discord.gg/enabling-debauched-xivfic)!


End file.
